Chapter 3: Think

Over the next few days I forced myself to sit and assess the situation rationally. At first I couldn't get his face out of my mind; I'm still kicking myself for thinking like some love-struck teenager both times I've met him. He's a vampire for god's sake! This isn't a movie, it's real life. Vampires like Lestat don't just appear out of the shadows, sweep a girl off her feet and ride off into the sunset…or after the sunset, ugh, I don't know. He's a real live monster, I kept reminding myself. He's cold, calculating; he has no respect for human life. Not to mention he's rife with the ridiculous human traits ego and arrogance. In all likelihood he's just playing some twisted cat and mouse game with me. I'm just another meal for him.

After thinking about these things for a while my hatred was well renewed. I'd just stay in the next few nights – it was good I didn't have any other interviews this week. It was frustrating, though; feeling like a prisoner in my own house. Never in my life had I thought twice about going outside by myself after dark. Now…I suppose things never were going to be the same; even if I never did see him again.

Jane completely freaked out when I told her about my last encounter with the vampire. She fully agreed with my staying in, and even offered to come stay with me if I didn't want to be alone. I told her that was going a little over the top, considering she had a day job and if Lestat really did want to attack, two women in their mid-twenties sure as hell weren't going to stop him. Jane agreed after a little more persuasion, then suggested I sign up for self-defense classes. I didn't want to be the pessimist in this, but once again, I couldn't see how that would help me in fighting the undead. Sorry kids, I'm not Buffy and I never will be. I have a hard enough time tackling the ants that like to invade my kitchen every summer. The fighting instinct seems to have been lost on me; then again, I've never had the need for it before.

Ben, on the other hand, was fully intrigued with the whole ordeal. Being the hopeless romantic that he is, he couldn't get over the back-and-forth verbal jabs, sexual undertones, and Lestat's parting comments.

"You two are sooooooo going to do it," he gushed as we sat drinking coffee at our favorite café (during daylight hours, mind you).

"You are sooooooo completely insane," I returned.

"Oh please – the man is gorgeous and he's practically stalking you!"

"That's what I'm worried about, artard!"

"You don't think he'd actually…you know…" Ben made an ick face, "because that would really suck." He started laughing at his own hideous pun. I wasn't quite as amused, and not only because the joke was horrible beyond measure.

"It's nice to know you're so concerned for my safety."

"Come on, now," he said stifling the last few giggles with coughs, quite ineffectively. "You and I both know that he would never go after a public figure – his image depends entirely on the mystery of the vampire, not the actual implications."

"First of all, I wouldn't exactly call myself a public figure. And second of all, those are pretty heavy implications. How is it that I'm the only person that isn't mesmerized by this guy?"

"No going off on modern popular music now, I'm not in the mood for another lecture on the so-called 'deterioration of modern culture' little miss I-know-music." He shot me an annoyed glance. Besides, you're a smart girl – you can handle yourself! And from the way you've been talking about him for the past half-hour, he's never going to get anywhere near you. You'd probably scratch his eyes out."

"Right." But it was a quiet assurance; I had no idea what was going to happen next and that bothered me. Righteous anger wasn't going to save me here.

My worries were unfounded though, or so it seemed anyway. After spending the next five nights in with no problems (not that there should have been any, seeing as I hadn't invited him in and never would) I had to get out. A week went by with no one sneaking up behind me. I did another night interview with no problems to speak of. I started letting my guard down a little; though not entirely.

Still, I can't say I wasn't surprised when he showed up again, this time at the café. It had been almost three weeks since I'd seen him last, there was a hope that had begun to grow in the back of my mind that he'd forgotten about me.

Nope.

I was hunched over my laptop trying to finish a story for an 11 am deadline tomorrow. It was edging on midnight and I still had quotes to insert and a conclusion to pull out of my ass. I'd already been there typing away for the last three hours. Damn me and my perfectionism. And tendency towards procrastination.

I was trying to weave a quote from Pop the Bubble's bassist into the body of the mass of text I'd accrued when I heard the chair opposite me being pulled out and it's new inhabitant say, "Hello again, Evie."

I decided I wasn't looking up. I wasn't acknowledging his presence. I was just going to keep typing and maybe he would get tired and go away…

"What, you won't even look at me now? I don't think I've ever offended someone so easily."

Still looking down; don't engage Evie, if you do it's all over.

"Sorry it's been a while, the life of a musician is chaotic at best. I spent the last two weeks in Japan – if you were interested."

His voice…I could feel my eyes inching upwards above the screen. Oh, it was him alright, seated across from me, completely relaxed, looking as though the whole world belonged to him. I was right (idiot!); I looked into those eyes and all thoughts of quotes and deadlines were wiped clean from my mind.

No. I'd been preparing myself for this. I could handle this. I wasn't fond of games, as you well know, but if I was going to be forced into this one, I wasn't going down without a fight. Scratch that, I wasn't going down period.

"Who knows, it could be fun," he smirked.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not half bad, or so I've been told," he said satisfactorily.

It finally dawned on me what he was implying. "Oh my god! You sick freak, get out of my head!" The statement started hysterically, but shot down to just above a whisper as I noticed other patrons staring.

The bastard laughed.

"You, my dear, are a little high strung."

"Lestat, go away," I practically growled at him.

He simply shifted forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table.

"Now why would I do that, I've only just arrived."

"I mean it," I was fumbling now; "I have a deadline tomorrow and I really don't have time for this tonight."

My tone must have been meaner than I thought because he actually seemed offended.

"Sorry to bother you then," he said rather haughtily, "I didn't realize I was causing you such displeasure." His face had turned hard, and he began to stand.

I knew I was going to regret this. "No, I'm sorry, I'm just really stressed right now – I shouldn't have been so rude to you." Vampire or no, I was raised better than that.

Well that revived the self-important smile instantly. But once again, maybe my eyes were playing with me, it seemed a little tempered. He sat back down and asked what the deadline was for. A vaguely civilized conversation ensued. Once again it turned to me doing his interview.

I couldn't help it, I had to ask. "Why is it you are so set on me doing your interview? Have you ever even read anything I've written?"

"What does that matter? You're published are you not?"

"Of course it matters! For all you know I could be some hack with a half-baked blog and one printed article in a magazine only three people read!"

"Why would I think that? If I recall correctly, your friend said you were a wonderful writer."

"That's not the point – what if I chose to write a horrible review simply out of spite?"

"You wouldn't do that," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"How do you know?"

"I just know," he smiled again.

This is ridiculous, I thought. Then I remembered he could read my mind and so turned back to my tried and true excuse. I began to pack up my things. It was half past one – we'd been talking for over an hour. Not exactly the best conversation of my life, but I hadn't felt the need to launch a fist at his face at any point. If that wasn't progress…

When I stood to leave he followed me out the door. I eyed him warily; he definitely hadn't crossed the barrier to my good side yet. "Well it was nice talking to you; good luck with everything." I started down the sidewalk at a quick pace.

"You don't think I'd let you walk home alone at this time of night? There are bad things that come out at night."

No kidding.

"I heard that."

God dammit.

"That too."

"Fine, Lestat, but my apartment is just around the corner – it's entirely unnecessary." I was reaching the point of sheer exasperation.

"That's beside the point; it would be very ungentlemanly of me to let you go off on your own".

"Oh, so you're a gentleman now". There was no hiding the sarcasm in that statement.

"Of course!" He dove into a swift yet elegant bow.

I suppressed the urge to scream in frustration (and laugh…) and kept walking.

"See," I said only a few minutes later, "Home. Good night." I started up the stairs, but turned around again quickly, "And no, I'm not inviting you in, so don't bother asking."

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, and gave that stupid little bow again. Alright, so it wasn't entirely stupid. It was charming. But only a little, and not in a romantic way.

I made sure I was in the door before he had a chance to say anything else.